


The Hogwarts Quidditch Cup of 1977

by jennandblitz



Series: Quidditch Through the Ages [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, Hogwarts, Horny Mutts, M/M, MWPP, Marauders, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Quidditch, Self-Indulgent, Shameless Smut, Smut, wolfstar
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-18
Updated: 2019-03-18
Packaged: 2019-11-23 19:06:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18155843
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandblitz/pseuds/jennandblitz
Summary: Quidditch celebrations take a turn for the better.Or, Remus and Sirius celebrate a Quidditch win with sex.





	The Hogwarts Quidditch Cup of 1977

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came out of Scotland having a glorious rugby match last weekend, and my wanting to write something about winning sports - my perpetual idea fountain and partner in crime Purplechimera suggested our boys getting it on in celebration. 
> 
> Of course, it turned into a six-part series of various times they've celebrated a Quidditch win with dirty deeds. More coming very soon!

“And McKinnon catches the Snitch!” Cresswell screams over the roar of the Gryffindor crowd, the amplification charm on his wand no match for the lions. “Gryffindor win! 270 to 120!”

Remus has already stumbled out of the stands, running towards the gathering burgundy jerseys in a fit of new moon energy. Lily and Dorcas are next to him, resplendent in Gryffindor scarves and screaming for their other halves, but Remus only has eyes for one person.

Around him, Dorcas elbows past to get to Marlene, shouting obscenities. Lily rushes from his side towards Captain Potter, as red-faced as her scarf and elbows as sharp as Doxy’s teeth. Someone claps him on the shoulder, maybe Peter or Emmeline or that sixth-year he helped out with Transfiguration a few weeks ago, but Remus only has eyes for one person.

Sirius spots him through the crowd as he and James are hoisting Marlene onto their shoulders in riotous celebration, and he blooms with pride and happiness. Remus sidles past a cluster of people, bouncing through the swaths of burgundy - most of them part because they _know_ where Remus is heading. Sirius has let go of Marlene when he reaches him, she’s been taken off by a crowd of Gryffindors to be treated like a queen all night, but Remus only has eyes for one person.

Sirius stumbles over to him, jelly legs, his insides probably screaming with adrenaline, and Remus all-but tackles him into a hug. “We won!” He barrels into Sirius’ chest, full of adrenaline himself, forgetting his dodgy knee from the most recent moon. Sirius is muddy, sweat-damp and breathing heavily but Remus buries his face into his hair. “ _You_ won!”

“That fucking Bludger? Christ, Pads, that was amazing, that was so good, so fucking good!” Remus babbles, running fingers through Sirius’ hair, pressing their torsos together, pressing their entire bodies together. “Merlin, you’re so good.”

Sirius laughs and kisses him hard, all teeth and tongue, too excited, smiles and laughter and Remus sinks into it. He’s always loved Sirius after Quidditch, always accosted him after practise, under the stands, in the locker room, it’s something about how _alive_ he looks grinning ear to ear and jittering with adrenaline. He smells like life, he looks like life, overflowing at the edges, personality and energy too big for his body. Remus moans, body already reacting, already converting the adrenaline into white-hot desire and he can’t help but run his hands over Sirius’ back under his jersey, down to his arse to grab it firmly.

Sirius moans back, shuddering, grasping Remus’ shoulders, his arms, through his hair, wherever he can. “We won,” he ushers out into their kiss, biting Remus’ bottom lip and laughing at the way Remus’ hips cant forward. “We won, we won.”

Remus grins, still clawing to try and scramble closer to Sirius, all of his overflowing energy, and it’s like the crowd has melted away around them. The Gryffindor roars are just background noise to the soft huffs of Sirius’ moaning.

“Oi, mutts!” James’ voice floats over the crowd and they break apart for a moment. Remus lifts his head to see James amongst the crowd, Lily hanging from his shoulders, her face in his neck. He’s flushed and grinning and gestures to them. “Padfoot! Post-match talk!”

Sirius leans in and bites the shell of Remus’ ear, still pressed so close and Remus can feel his erection through his Quidditch uniform and he was _never_ any good at resisting Sirius Black in shorts. “Fuck that!” Sirius calls back, pulling Remus along with him, stumbling back whilst still trying to kiss.

“Sorry Prongs!” Remus calls, half into their kiss, not particularly caring if James hears or not. “He’s mine!”

“Showers?” Sirius slides a hand between them to palm over Remus’ cock. Remus doesn’t usually care for public displays of affection - or plain exhibitionism at this point - but he’s buzzing with adrenaline and the win and Sirius all sweat-damp in his Quidditch robes and pulling him towards the shower block.

“No, no,” Remus grits out, the arm around Sirius’ waist pulling them up the path towards the castle instead. The cheers and shouts of the people around them fall on deaf ears. “I want you like this, like this.”

“Dorms, then. Merlin, quick Moons, quick.” Sirius is breathless, body stuttering against Remus’, still feeling as if he’s flying, eyes so dark and stormy. They’re laughing, and only make it to the main entryway before Sirius has Remus pressed against some statue, a knee between his thighs, nails scraping over his shoulders. Remus’ breath hitches, his hips jerking back against Sirius’, still laughing and kissing and _flying_. Remus is in pieces already, the scent of Sirius’ adrenaline, sweat and joy assaulting his senses, his palm over Remus’ cock, his mouth so sweet and breathless. Sirius always kisses like it’s the last thing he’ll ever do, all encompassing, his attention solely on Remus like it is in no other way. He’s always so scattered, always thinking of a million things unless it’s just _Remus_.

“Mr Black! Mr Lupin!”

McGonagall’s voice rings through the crowds, and Sirius breaks off, grabbing Remus’ hand. They run up the main staircase, stumbling into the first corridor it spits them out into, hoping McGonagall is in good enough spirits after the win to leave them alone.

Remus is chanting a soft litany of “Pads, Pads, Pa- ah, _ah_ ,” as they stumble down another corridor, his arm still tight around Sirius’ waist, Sirius’ mouth on his neck, his chin, his cheeks, his mouth, everywhere, still grinning. They stumble up another set of stairs, not caring if it takes them any closer to Gryffindor Tower, and stop halfway up the flight with Sirius pressed against the bannister, one hand white-knuckled on the rail to keep them both standing.

“Moons, oh fu- Merlin, Moons, fuck-” Sirius rushes out as they stumble into the next corridor, objectively no closer to their dormitories but infinitely more horny. Remus has his hand down Sirius’ shorts, fingers curled around his cock, stroking him roughly because he can’t think straight enough to tease. Sirius being all sweat-damp and effervescent is enough of a tease for him. Sirius stumbles back against a tapestry and grasps onto a sconce to try and stay upright. Remus presses closer, mouthing down Sirius’ jaw to the sounds of his moans. Then they’re both stumbling backwards, the wall behind the tapestry dissolving away to reveal a secret passageway they both would’ve remembered if they were thinking with their brains and not their cocks.

Sirius lands on his back with an _oof_ of breathlessness, Remus between his legs, a hand either side of his head. They’re laughing airily, Sirius’ head thrown back, Remus’ mouth pressed into inky black hair, laughing and laughing, until Sirius shifts and presses his hips up and they both moan.

“Fuck, Moons.” Sirius rakes his nails down Remus’ back, pressing their hips closer.

“ _Ah_ , Padfoot!” Remus yelps as Sirius bites his neck, sucking a lurid mark above the opening of his shirt and he belatedly realises his Gryffindor scarf has come off somewhere, but he finds he can’t care in the least bit. Remus just presses closer to Sirius, sinking into the open juncture of his legs, all long pale limbs, taut from the match, quivering against Remus’ thighs.

Sirius fumbles Remus’ flies open and closes his fist around his aching cock without preamble. Remus moans and sinks to the side to free up one hand, the other clenched in Sirius’ hair to prop them up. Sirius is looking up at him with dark eyes, pupils blown wide, mouth open and gasping through their laughter and wonderfully breathless. He looks wrecked already, bright and shimmering, as if he might come apart at the seams and he’s never looked as beautiful as he does now.

Remus tugs Sirius’ shorts down, the other boy lifting his hips to help him, and the wolf preens happily at the scent of Sirius’ skin exposed. Sirius is pressing open mouthed kisses to every bit of Remus he can reach, his fist moving frenetically over Remus’ length, a lubrication spell somewhere along the line nearly tipping him over the edge. He drops onto his elbow, pressing closer to Sirius and meeting his lips in a deep kiss, tongue curling into his mouth, moaning loudly.

Sirius shifts and joins their hands, tilting his hips to wrap them around both of their cocks at once, pressed together, slick with that wordless, wandless spell he knows - the only one he’s mastered, _priorities Moony!_ Sirius works them over with punishing accuracy, twisting his wrist just atthe right moment, grip just the right side of firm.

“Oh M-Merlin Padfoot. Fuck, you’re so good at that,” Remus manages to hiss out, thrusting shallowly into their joined hands, one arm still braced by Sirius’ head. They’re still kissing breathlessly, tongues meeting outside their mouths, Sirius’ free hand at the nape of Remus’ neck to keep him close, to feel their breath mingling, to see the feral light that blooms in Remus’ eyes when he’s on the precipice of orgasm.

Remus comes first, spilling richly into their joined hands with a sharp moan at the back of his throat. Sirius grins up at him, shimmering so brightly, sweat at his temples, at his collarbones where his jersey has fallen off his shoulder. Remus pants through the waves of his orgasm, his come spreading between their fingers and over Sirius’ cock too. Sirius throws his head back against the floor, moaning long and low as he too comes into their hands. Remus kisses him through the tremors of it, Sirius always so pliant whenever he comes, moaning incoherent phrases into Remus’ lips.

“We won,” Sirius breathes as he sinks back against the floor, slowing their hands to a stop.

Remus collapses on top of him, face buried into his neck. “We won.”

They stay there for a moment or two, to catch their breath, and Remus mutters a cleaning charm between it all, musing on the fact that it’s Sirius who knows the lubrication spell, and he who knows the cleaning charm.

Sirius is idly stroking Remus’ back, chest still heaving between them, still pressed together from knee to shoulder, half clothed and beautiful, when Remus lifts his head from it’s place in his neck and glances around. “Where the hell are we?”

“Uh-” Sirius’ hands still and he too glances around, wriggling out from under Remus to pull his shorts back onto his hips. “I have no clue?”

Remus stifles a snort of laughter into Sirius’ sweat-damp neck, overflowing with happiness.

When they finally trip back into the Gryffindor common room, the party is well under way. Marlene is sprawled on a sofa, Dorcas pouring Butterbeer into her mouth. Daniel Wood is stood on a table, swinging his scarf around like a lasso and leading a garbled victory chant. Someone has put an amplification charm on the record player in the corner and the whole room is alive with people from all years, all decked in red and gold.

“Showers?” Remus mutters into Sirius’ ear, well aware they are now both sweat damp and utterly shagged out. Everyone in the common room probably knows it too, judging from the way they couldn’t put each other down in the entryway.

Sirius grins, as if to say he doesn’t mind skipping the rest of the party if it means he gets Moony naked in the shower, and weaves through the crowd towards their dormitory. Remus is hot on his heels, just far away enough that he can watch Sirius walk. Sirius Black, high on the confidence of a Gryffindor win, smelling of Remus’ completion, his arse in those shorts, is a thing of utter beauty that Remus wants to pull out into a Pensieve to revisit at every possible moment.

They make a detour to the dorms to grab their wash-bags, and stumble through the door in another half-assed embrace, because apparently the allure of adrenaline-high coupling doesn’t wear off after one shag.

“Oi!” James’ voice comes from behind his drapes, along with a breathy laugh that - horribly - Remus identifies as Lily.

Sirius reaches up and covers Remus’ eyes with his hands. “And you call us the horny mutts!” His own eyes are probably shut but Remus can hear him fumbling for his towels.

“At least we made it to the dorms!” Lily calls, and Remus cracks one eye, immediately regretting it to see an expanse of skin in James’ bed, tanned and pale white together. James is laughing, and waves the drapes of his bed closed with his one free hand. Remus shakes his head and snags his wash-bag from Sirius’ hands.

“C’mon, Moony,” Sirius says, practically running out of the dorms. “If these two get to desecrate the dorms, then we get to shag in the showers!”

“We can’t desecrate what you two have already ruined!” James says as Remus shuts the door and ushers Sirius into the showers with a wry grin.

They don’t make it down to the party until much, _much_ later. James and Lily appear in the common room only a short while after they do, and they share a bottle of Firewhisky to toast the winning Gryffindor Quidditch Team of 1977.


End file.
